Prodigal
In the end there was no need for Sarka to say anything at all, for at that moment another wolf appeared. Her words came first, their sound alone was enough to put a smile on Azalea's face. "That would be me." Her gaze turned, angling to the white wolf with her abstract markings. The Armada wolf she called her friend, Roman. It made full sense that Regium stood with her at the helm.
There was a softness lent to the great she-wolf's tone and the Adravendi woman didn't have to wonder why. Little shy Sarka, so quick to flight, was probably even more so since Azalea's disappearance. There was no emotion on the wolf's face though and Azalea stood silent and still as she was taken in by the Queen. In this silence she too took a gander, her eyes wandering over Roman to find the female heftier than when last seen.
When the pack was given to Azalea it had been after Roman miscarried and now it would appear that she had made it well past the point of no return. "You need to see a healer." A brow spot jumped as she fixed Roman with a look, "Sure you aren't in need of one yourself?" Her comment was geared at just how well rounded Roman was, likely very near to going into labor. She shouldn't be out and about let alone greeting wolves at the border. Alas, here they were and Azalea's tone made it clear that she did not want to go see a healer now.
"It's been a while, Azalea. What poor fool did you beat up on to hurt your damn leg?" The stalemate would break as Roman's tone seeped in the glee to have her friend returned and Azalea snorted. "Shall I call for a healer?" Sher wrinkled her nose, the skin on her muzzle crinkling up for a moment. "No, not now. As for what happened to my leg... I'm afraid I'm the poor fool. I went high up north, it was only supposed to be a short trip... well, I was chasing a rabbit and had a cliff give out on me. Hell, I probably would have been fine but a rock hit my leg pretty good and there was a lovely snapping sound involved. It hurt like a son of a bitch and I could hardly move."
Her eyes cast to Sarka, looking to see if she was paying attention. Did Sarka care about her reasons or would she be like Kismet and Soren and hold it against her. "Some weird old wolf found me and helped me stay alive but she knew nothing about healing so I spent weeks lying around just trying not to move my leg. I think its healing pretty good on my own... but it still hurts like a son of a bitch."
She wobbled a bit where she stood, wanting to sit down but at the same time not wanting to show her weakness in the struggle it would take to lower herself without flinching in pain. She was slightly underweight below that plush winter coat of hers and her coat was marred with dirt and who knows what else. Azalea wanted to draw the attention away from herself, eyes searching Roman's and Sarka's now. "Where are the others? Raziel, Azael...Kismet. Soren?" |